#Faye cooper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ace-malarky · 1 month ago

Text

What's In A Name

Oh ok so I've shared bits of this before for snippets and the like but the person I wrote it for has received it and read it and also responded so now I can share here

Fair Folk name shenanigans but make it queer, everybody. You're welcome

~~~

Calico is restless, itchy, like he’s forgotten something important. He leaves the flat he shares with Ghost (by Ghost’s less-than-gentle suggestion) and walks down into Stockbridge.

The hum of people about their business quiets Calico’s buzzing mind as he listens in on bits and pieces of their conversations. He hears pinpricks of names, but they aren’t given to him. They have no power except that they catch his focus.

Except that they are his focus.

Calico shakes his head. He’s forgotten something, sure as he knows his name. Sure as he knows Burke is toothless and sealed for good this time.

Sure as he knows it’s because of her that something was shaken loose, something he didn’t know was locked tight.

He turns a corner rather than wait for the lights and ends up on the Water of Leith.

There are cyclist and dog walkers and buggies and children everywhere. Calico greets every dog that races up to him, winks at every kid that stops to watch him. Sticks his tongue out at a few of the buggies just to hear the babies laugh.

This city is so alive. Everyone going by has a life and a story and a name.

Particularly a name.

The enchanted gasp of a child startles Calico. He snaps back to himself to see a child before him, barely knee high and staring up at him with the glazed over sheen of glamour coating their gaze.

Calico curses and pulls away, turning up the narrow stairs and pulling his aviators out of his pocket to put on.

In his wake, the child hiccups and starts to cry.

He blinks to calm the kaleidoscope glamour in his eyes and-

Snow and a shivering child in a too-big, too-worn coat sunk to their knees and staring up at them, eyes wide and a faint seaweed green under ragged mousy hair.

Calico stutters to a halt. He isn’t standing in snow, he’s standing on dirt-and-timber stairs, surrounded by trees. It’s grey, a little bit cold. Dry.

He reaches to put a hand on the railing, stepping to the side of the path.

“Faye?”

He looks up to see someone he thinks he recognises from somewhere.

They’re wearing patched dungarees, cuffed and covered in patches and pins, over battered docs and a dark t-shirt. They’ve got a faded, oversized flannel shirt over it like it’s a jacket, the sleeves folded back to their elbows. Tattoos poke out under their cuffs, many branched things that Calico can’t work out from a glance. Their dark blue hair is pulled up into a high tail, showing off the shaved sides and multiple piercings in their ears. They’re wearing sunglasses that’ve slipped down their nose to show brown eyes outlined with deep purple cat eyeliner.

“How’ve you – are you alright?” they ask.

Calico pushes his sunglasses further up his nose. “Burke, he says, half a question.

"Briar," they reply, and Calico - Calico remembers.

That same person only not in the snow; they’re standing before someone, hands clasped in front of them and head lowered. Their clothes are fitted, bright colours and extravagant and they look uncomfortable in them. Barefoot; scuffed and scratched and mud striped up their legs.

They’re older.

“Hey.” They’ve reached a hand out as if to tap him, but they haven’t quite landed.

Calico blinks. “Briar,” he repeats. “Yes. You helped us with Burke.”

“Yeah.” They take a step back up the path. “Come on.”

Calico follows.

They lead him up into the grounds of some grand building Calico’s never seen before.

“Were you headed anywhere in particular?”

Calico shakes his head. “Just restless. You?”

“Needed to leave the house for a spell.”

“So I’m not diverting you from anything?”

“Even if you were, you need – something.” Briar shrugs. “I can listen.”

Calico feels it this time, the sideways stumble before-

Facing a woman in brown and red, arrows over her shoulder and a bow in her hands. She’s aiming it at Calico, though she hasn’t pulled it taut. Not the same person; they’re out of view of this woman, frowning as they looked between Calico and the woman. They’re biting their lip, hands twisted in their sleeves like they can’t decide who to help.

"Faye?" Briar asks, hand out like they've prodded him to check. "Are you ok?"

"You remind me of someone, that's all." Calico shakes himself and grins. "How's life been treating you?"

“It’s been – good,” Briar says. “Thinking about a Masters before finding work. Maybe history.” They laugh slightly.

Calico grins. “Wouldn’t that be cheating?”

“Not if I cite it correctly.” They grin.

They keep amongst the trees rather than cut across the lawn, and Calico is content to follow.

He’s never gone this long without taking a name. No one had ever said it would be a bad thing. Just that it wasn’t the done thing.

He would have liked a warning. But Ghost had made him a deal and he couldn’t.

“Faye?”

Calico looks up. “You’re repeating yourself a lot, you know that?”

Briar laughs. “Can’t help it, I suppose.”

“Like my attention on you?” Calico grins.

“It seems better than wherever you go when you’re not focused on me.”

“Right.”

“Where do you go?”

Calico frowns.

“You don’t have to answer,” Briar says. “I’m just – if you want to talk about it, you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Calico replies.

Briar shrugs. “That’s–”

“No, I mean – I’m not sure where I go. I think they’re memories, but-”

Pink hair and seaweed eyes, a grin almost as sharp as his own and his – his cousin, that’s his cousin – opens keir mouth and-

Briar has hold of his arm, pulling him as best they can to their side. “Hey.”

“Well that’s not my name,” Calico mumbles.

Briar lets out a huff that is sort of a laugh.

"So here - here's the thing about Fair Folk and names," Calico says, not quite collapsing to the ground. At least he does it gracefully, with Briar holding onto his arm, swinging him into their side and sinking slowly to the soft moss that carpets the roots of the trees they stand under. “We don’t – first off, two branches. Not including the Fae, like Burke. We approach names differently, I think.”

Briar is listening, attention completely on Calico.

He’d forgotten someone. Who had he forgotten?

“Fairy tales,” Briar says. “If we learn the name of a Fair, we control them. Like Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Doesn’t work for you mere mortals. For my branch of Fair? Absolutely. We trust no one with our True Names, so they can’t be used against us.”

He’d given someone his name, he was sure.

“Faye isn’t your name, then.”

“Of course not.” He grins. “And no, I don’t know any of the gang by name, either.” He watches their eyes catch on his too-sharp teeth.

Briar laughs. “It’s about as on the nose as any of the rest of the superheroes.”

Calico shrugs and lets the conversation die, but there’s something still eating at him. Something that has its teeth in him, that won’t let him just leave it there. “But there’s – the other thing.” Someone he’s forgotten.

Calico launches himself to his feet, starts to pace, because if he sits still a second longer he’s going to atrophy.

What a good word.

“So the – the other thing. About names.”

“You’ve started this several times.” Briar is watching him pace, cautious. Feet tucked up against them, still describing the space where he had been sitting.

Fair. (He laughs to himself. Everything with him is fair).

“It’s tricky. To speak of it.”

They nod.

“For my family – my world – it's exactly what you’re thinking. It’s how we draw power. Taking names.”

“Like Burke.”

“Like Burke.” Calico nods. Falls silent. Pauses. Then, “I haven’t taken a name in months.”

Briar holds their breath.

“You’re safe,” he says, but what use is the word of a Fair that’s admitted to being hungry? “But if you want to leave,” he says, closing his eyes against the kaleidoscope they’re becoming, “I’d understand.” It shouldn’t be this much of a problem, he should have control of it all, but.

It had been months.

“What happens to the name you take?” They sound... curious more than afraid.

He will never fully understand humanity. “It... it’s not theirs anymore. No one can use it. Not for the. Victim.”

“Does it have to be the name we use?”

Calico turns, opens his eyes. “What?”

“If you were given a name someone didn’t use but was still technically theirs, what would happen?” They weren’t quite looking at him, picking at the fraying edge of the leg of their dungarees.

“Much the same, I think. No one would be able to use it for them.”

Briar nods. “I have a name for you. If you need it.”

Calico frowns. “Don’t - don’t give me your name, haven’t you been listening? That’s why we use nicknames.” Besides which, he shouldn’t, Ghost’s deal.

“Yes, but what if it’s a name that’s only mine by a technicality?”

“Why is it only by a technicality?”

“The name my parents gave me.” Briar gets to their feet. “I don’t use it, not really.”

Calico hesitates. “They don’t – they don’t use the name you chose?”

“I’ve never really asked them too. Family nicknames are – fine.” Briar shrugs.

“If you gave it to me, they wouldn’t be able to use it.”

“Good,” Briar says. “Would it work for you?”

“Why - why are you offering me this?”

Briar shrugs, starts walking. “You need names. And you saved my life.”

Calico hurries to walk in step, heading further across the grass, away from the buildings and into the graveyard. “Only after you got us the information we needed. That deal is paid.”

“So we make a new deal.”

Calico laughs. “You humans.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’d need to ask for something in return.” He’s hedging, hoping for a way out, not to run up against Ghost’s deal.

Briar falls silent, and for a moment Calico thinks he’s done it. That he’s persuaded them not to make a deal, not to… go through with whatever this idea is.

Then;

“Tell me about the person I remind you of.”

“My cousin,” Calico answers, and then, “I… didn’t know that. Before you asked. But ke is – was – my cousin.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m beginning to, I think.” Calico stopped before a grave and studied the writing on it without really seeing it. “But I don’t think a scattering of memories is worth a name.”

“Allow me to set the price for it, Faye.” Briar nudged him. “Tell me about keir.”

“Ke was–” Calico closes his eyes– “younger. Nervy. Green eyes. Finery, but worn. Old.” If only he could remember keir name!

“How much younger are we talking?” Briar sounded amused.

“The life of a Fair against yours?” Calico laughed.

“Point.” Briar took off their glasses and tapped one leg against their teeth. “You don’t remember keir – what you called them?”

Calico gave them a fleeting smile. “You catch on.”

Briar gives him a flat look that mirrors Kelly’s favourite, and Calico laughs.

“I don’t think I do. There’s something – someone’s taken my memories of keir.”

“By a deal, or…?”

“If another Fair had my name, maybe, but… I’d know.” Calico frowns. He thinks.

“If I swapped my name for keirs, would that work?”

Calico sucks in a hiss and snaps his glare up to them.

They’re not looking at him.

“I’d not give you my cousin’s name, even if I knew it.” Calico bares his teeth, eyes darkening.

“Not – not keir true name, shit. Just whatever you called them.” Briar looks up, startled. “Sorry.”

The apology flickers across him.

“Ah.” Calico laughs. “I misunderstood.” He tilts his head, thinking. “I don’t know. It might not take.”

“I’ll give it a shot.” Briar swivels on their heel to face Calico amongst the graves. “How do we do this?”

Calico hesitates. “I – don’t think I can. I made a deal with Ghost. She forbad me from taking names.”

“I’m giving you this one. That’s different enough, right?”

It… might be. Just enough. Willingly given, not forcefully taken. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He pushes his aviators onto his head and blinks as his eyes go kaleidoscope colours with unbidden glamour.

Briar lets out a soft gasp, their face softening.

“Make your deal, Mortal.” The compulsion lies thick on Calico’s tongue, a strain to call it up, a strain to keep it in check.

“A name for a name, Faye,” Briar says, offering their hand. “I’ll give you mine in exchange for the use-name of your cousin.” They sound a little dazed, and Calico hopes they aren’t about to give him their true name.

“I accept, Mortal. Give me the name your parents gave you.” He takes Briar’s hand.

Clouds scud across the sky and the sun lights them up in sudden warmth.

Briar tells him their deadname like they’re dreaming. It doesn’t suit them, but then – it’s not theirs. Never has been. Never will be again.

“My cousin’s use-name,” Calico says, and hesitates, “my cousin’s use-name is–”

Pink hair and seaweed eyes, a flowing skirt over bare feet, waistcoat whirling about keir as ke spins and darts back, beckoning for Calico to follow. He feels proud of keir, to have come with him, to have joined his family, despite everything. Despite him and Robyn and what they’d done. What he’d done. He adored keir. He’d set the worlds alight for keir (he gave up his name when ke asked, gave up his memories when told, gave up – gave up – gave up-)

“Tayse,” Calico says, the name sharp on his tongue like a broken key.

He’d drop to his knees under the weight of the memories (the guilt) but Briar has hold of him.

They’ve stopped closer, hand still clasped in his, and have him against their side, arm looped around their waist.

“Are you alright?” they ask. “Did that – work?”

“Briar suits you far better,” Calico says. “I think it did.”

“Your cousin is Tayse. Do you… know happened to keir?”

“Not entirely.” Calico pushes himself upright. “But I’m going to find out.” He feels more – settled than he had when he set out. More power at his fingers (on his tongue) but more control, too.

Briar nods. “Good. And – would you let me know? When you do?” Briar lets go of him.

“I… I think I can do that.”

“Good.” Briar smiles. “And – listen. Just a thought, but… when you need more names. Let me know?”

“How many times will you plan to change names?”

Briar laughs. “No, not me. But do you know how many trans people would give up their deadnames without blinking?”

Calico blinks, grins, laughs.

“Think about it, alright?”

Months later and Calico is sitting in Qualitea with Briar beside her. It’s wild and wet outside, but in here is warmth and autumnal drinks and just the hint of Hallowe’en décor creeping around the corner.

There is a woman on the other side of the table from them, and Briar is explaining something to her.

Calico takes a sip of her apple spiced chai and listens again.

“If you give Faye here your deadname, no one will be able to use it for you again. You’ll never be able to go back to it, you understand?”

She nods. “I get it, alright?” She turns her attention to Calico. “And that’s enough? I give you my deadname, you get power, I get freedom?”

Calico nods and extends her hand over the table. “I accept, Mortal. Give me the name your parents gave you.”

And she tells her.

#writing pieces #The Fair #Calico Cooper // Faye #The Mist Worlds #Briony Mckay #and now I should uhhhh. get back to work lmao

6 notes · View notes